The Promise of Light
by Houkanno Yuuhou
Summary: (rated for self-abuse issues) “I tell you that I have seen death, firsthand, many times over. I’m already dead, in more ways than just Kikyou."


Don't know why I wrote this. As if I don't write enough angst-filled stories. ^^; But there's always been something about Kagome that strikes me as odd. Yes, she's very strong and mature for her age. She's very loyal. But there's always a look in her eyes of sadness and deep regret, like there's something she wishes to forget or there's something really perplexing her (besides Kikyou). That look haunts me. 

"And it starts, always like this." Kagome and the endless cycle of pain. One thought leads to millions more which leads to the ultimate, and then back again. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Disclaimer: I think you know by now. ^^;;

"The Promise of Light"

By Ruth Woytsek (Houkanno Yuuhou, Sengoku Jidai, etc, etc.)

And it starts, always like this. 

I have to look at myself in the mirror to see my hair as I brush it, wishing that I had no eyes with which to view myself. At the very least, it would be nice if I could do this without having to look.

Really, I just wish I was blind. Because then I wouldn't stare at myself and wonder what it is that everyone sees when they see me. I wonder, because _I _know what I see.

My friends think I'm crazy. They worry over the fact that my "boyfriend" is jealous and violent to the point of abusing me, and when I insist that they are wrong, they have to point out the dark circles beneath my eyes. It's evident, really. When you've got the look that you cry all of the blackness inside of you out onto your face, everyone knows. But Inu-Yasha doesn't abuse me. At least, in no way that can really hurt me, unless I let him. 

Inu-Yasha just doesn't love me.

That's not right either. Sometimes, he's so…he does these things that make the light shine in me again, but he draws the curtain shut more often than he opens it. I don't blame him. I swear that I don't. He is pledged to Kikyou, to honor a promise he made to her. I have to understand that she came before me. No matter how much it hurts.

I hide my face underneath my blankets at night, while at home and on our travels. I don't want him to see me...to see me curled into a ball as I cry out every raw emotion inside of me, as I unleash the pain.

He hasn't seen the scars, but I'm quite certain he's sniffed the blood by the stares he gives me on the morning after. I can't be as careful while huddled with our little group, so I try to wait, but sometimes, home is just to far away. It doesn't matter. There are times and places. Just like when he runs off to find Kikyou.

I can't hate her either. She's an earlier version of me, the better copy, and also, she's the walking dead. I do as I was taught to do; I pity her and pray for her. It doesn't matter that when I see her, it feels like she's ripping the life from me. It doesn't matter that she either can't see or refuses to see what pain she's causing me. She respects me though and maintains her distance, even if she breaks through sometimes.

My little secret that only she knows. I have the power to take back my soul--our soul--from her. I did it before, and I know how, but I don't proceed. She doesn't understand why, but I do. I could never do that to Inu-Yasha. I want to prove myself the better person, that I am capable of his trust.

But I'm not.

I lie to myself and everyone else, pretending that I have this honor code, that I'm a strong girl, but I'm not. But it's easy to fool everyone into thinking it so with the flash of a sweet smile and the wave of a hand. They're always too busy smiling back to see what lies beneath these steel blue irises. 

And I can't fool myself.

The pain reflected back at me through them forces me to act as I do. It's not Inu-Yasha's fault, so you can't blame him; I can't blame him. The pain existed before he did; it's not his fault that it magnified when I met him.

All of my life, I have dreamed. I've never once looked into the mirror and seen "Kagome." My memories of being Kikyou are as plain in my mind's eye as the nose on my face. I see myself, killing him over and over and over again, and I sadly wonder if it's what he sees when his warm honey eyes fade into cold amber stones. Does my face haunt him?

So you ask me why I do not call him an abuser, and I tell you this: the abuser cannot be the abused, as I abused him first. The day I pierced his loving heart with an arrow, I lost his trust. I quite haven't realized that I'll never truly have it back. Not when I don't deserve to have it back.

I can't hurt him anymore, so I do my best to please him, even when he angers me. I apologize first because I don't want him to hate me--couldn't live with myself if he hated me again. I hate myself enough for the both of us.

And when the abuser has no one left to abuse, they abuse themselves. 

Will they ever find out? I don't know, but it's doubtful. They are so used to my mask now that they recognize nothing else. _Kagome, crying?? Only when Inu-Yasha breaks her heart! She's the happiest girl alive!_

Will I ever tell? Never. The abuser never tells.

So I toss my hair and say flippant little things, giggle and grin…and no one is wiser.

My friends shake their heads in an overdramatic fashion and sigh when I repeat to them that Inu-Yasha isn't the bad guy they believe him to be, but soon after, we're all laughing around our straws at Wacdnlds over something silly. And at night, I cry to myself again while I pour rubbing alcohol into my physical wounds and salt into my emotional wounds. 

I hate the everlasting sorrow hidden deep within me. I want to be happy. But this is the only way I can redeem my soul after I hurt so many others.

And you ask me why I haven't killed myself, why I'm not dead?

I tell you that I have seen death, firsthand, many times over. I'm already dead, in more ways than just Kikyou.

And when Inu-Yasha does draw open the curtain to my heart to allow the light to shine in, I am grateful more than he'll ever know. Because those brief moments when I remember true happiness and love, well, that is worth all of the pain.


End file.
